


While You Were Sleeping

by keeperofthemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bi!Ron, M/M, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthemoon/pseuds/keeperofthemoon
Summary: No, no, it was because if Ron didn’t manage to speak then Draco would find out from the Daily Prophet that Ron had died in a back alley after being hit by a curse from a Death Eater. If Ron didn’t somehow tell Harry the truth now, Draco would never know how he truly felt. Because Draco had made Ron swear to not tell his loved ones they were dating—not yet, not until Draco was ready. And Ron had agreed. But now, as he lay dying on a sidewalk in some random Muggle town, Ron rather wished he would’ve broken that particular promise.When Ron doesn't return home from a mission as expected, Draco has to swallow his pride and figure out what happened to him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 292
Collections: Ron/Draco Fest - Better Together





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I was really excited for this prompt-- the story sorta came together as soon as I saw it. I really wanted to show Draco having to build these relationships around Ron not being there. I hope you enjoy!

It was snowing.  
  
It was snowing and Ron Weasley was dying.  
  
He could feel the blood wet on his face. Only a moment ago he had coughed it up as he gasped for breath. His fingers dug helplessly into the pavement as he struggled—struggled to move, struggled to breathe, struggled to concentrate.  
  
Ron stared up at the dark sky and watched as hundreds of snowflakes fell down towards him. They danced in the wind, colliding and twisting. He wished he could look away or call for help or find his wand, heal himself like he had been taught to do in Auror training, but he simply couldn’t. His energy was leaving him. His body was growing cold.  
  
This wasn’t good.  
  
Shakily, he breathed in. The snow began to land on him, cool, light kisses along his exposed skin. It made him think of… it made him think of Draco. His eyes unfocused and he allowed himself to relax.  
  
The prat had argued with him before he left on this mission. Draco had been angry, dismissive, cold. It had reminded Ron so much of the young boy he remembered from school that he had wanted to laugh. Ron almost smiled at the memory but a sharp pain crept up his side, causing him to gulp in air. The pain forced him to concentrate ever so slightly and he was suddenly aware of someone crouched beside him. He could hear the person speaking to him, a familiar voice that made him want to _pay attention_.  
  
But he couldn’t.  
  
Instead, he thought of the way Draco’s eyes darkened whenever Ron came into view. He thought of the white of Draco’s hair, as white as the snow that drifted down towards him, and how much time and effort Draco put into making sure every strand of hair was in place. He thought of the cruel edge of Draco’s smirk and easily recalled how it softened whenever Ron laughed. He thought of the sharp inhale Draco took whenever Ron leaned in close, he thought of the way his lips tasted and the way Draco laughed and the way his eyebrows furrowed when he thought over something, the way he still tried to beat Ron at chess despite having lost every other time, how he spit poisonous words but could also be so kind and gentle. Ron remembered the first time he realized he loved the git—Ron had arrived at Draco’s flat, sick and tired and offering apologies for wanting to leave after only just arriving. Draco had told him to stay. He had taken care of him.  
  
Draco was going to be absolutely furious when he found out that Ron had been injured on a mission. No, not just injured. Almost killed. He was, after all, dying still.  
  
He was dying.  
  
Alarm raced through Ron’s system. The adrenaline helped him focus on his surroundings. He looked away from the sky and his gaze fell on Harry. Harry, who must’ve heard Ron shout as he fell and rushed back to him, letting the rogue Death Eater—fucking Macnair—escape. His best mate was working frantically, waving his wand over Ron and trying to read the ruins that appeared over his body. Harry was a ruddy Healer though; it was some of his poorer marks in Auror training. Ron tried to lift his arm and push Harry away, to let him know everything would be okay, but he couldn’t move.  
  
Harry’s glasses were askew and his lips were pale. Ron was rather sure Harry was crying too. Odd. He had never seen Harry react this way before on a mission. This wasn’t good. He was dying and Harry was crying as he tried to fix him and Ron couldn’t move. Panic made him try to speak once more.  
  
But the panic wasn’t because he could taste sharp metallic blood on his tongue. It wasn’t because his arms and legs had gone completely numb; that was not a good sign, he knew that, but he could hardly think on it. It wasn’t because of the tears that shined on Harry’s face as he tried to heal the wound that was killing Ron.  
  
No, no, it was because if Ron didn’t manage to speak then Draco would find out from the Daily Prophet that Ron had died in a back alley after being hit by a curse from a Death Eater. If Ron didn’t somehow tell Harry the truth now, Draco would never know how he truly felt. Because Draco had made Ron swear to not tell his loved ones they were dating—not yet, not until Draco was ready. And Ron had agreed. But now, as he lay dying on a sidewalk in some random Muggle town, Ron rather wished he would’ve broken that particular promise.  
  
“Dra—”  
  
His name clawed its way up Ron’s throat but refused to leave his mouth completely. His lip quivered as he concentrated on speaking. Ron had to tell Harry, he had to tell him to reach out to Draco, that if this was the end then Draco had to know Ron was thinking of him last.  
  
“Dra—Dra—”  
  
“—other Aurors are coming, Ron. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve—”  
  
Harry looked scared.  
  
Harry looked scared and the darkness crept in, taking over. Draco’s name died on Ron’s lips.


	2. Chapter 2

_Draco was angry with him. He could feel the man’s glare on his back, though each time Ron turned around to meet his eyes Draco would be concentrating hard on a book. It was annoying and childish, especially since there was little Ron could do to change Draco’s mood, but Ron understood why Draco was upset. The Auror department received word that Macnair could be hiding away in a Muggle town south of London and they wanted Ron and Harry to go investigate. There was no way for Ron to decline the mission._  
  
_Even though it would be a short mission—they were only there to see if there was any reason to believe Macnair could be there too—it still ruined the plans Draco had made for their weekend off together. This wasn’t the first time work had cancelled plans between them and it wouldn’t be the last. More and more Ron considered leaving the Ministry, finding a simpler job, so that he could spend more time with Draco at home. But then Draco would act like this, angry and stubborn and cruel, and Ron would remember how far they still had to go with their relationship._  
  
_Bloody hell, Draco still wouldn’t let Ron tell his friends about them and it had been nearly two years now._  
  
_“It’s only for three days, Draco. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”_  
  
_Draco scowled down at the book and Ron bit back a sigh. He turned his attention back to the mirror and looked over his attempt to dress more like a Muggle. Harry generally always knew how to dress, seeing as he lived with Muggles for years, but sometimes Ron still got it wrong. Muggles sense of fashion was so bizarre._  
  
_“It’s an important mission then? To take you away so suddenly?” Draco drawled._  
  
_“You know I can’t tell you anything.”_  
  
_It was the truth. Policy didn’t allow Ron to tell any of his loved ones details of the missions he was sent on. Sometimes it could be hard, especially when missions went longer than they were supposed to. But Ron understood it. If word got out that Aurors were travelling to a certain place at a certain time, there could be an ambush waiting for them or the fugitive could get away._  
  
_Ron met Draco’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. His light eyes were darkening in frustration. He almost smiled at him but held back. Draco was hard to please in this mood._  
  
_“Surely Potter told his wife the details.”_  
  
_“Ginny? Nah, I don’t think so.” Ron ran his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I’m not sure she’d want to know anyway. It’d just worry her.”_  
  
_Harry broke rules all the time, it was part of who Harry was, but this was a rule Ron had a feeling Harry was unwilling to break. And Ginny likely would hate to know how dangerous certain missions were, worrying at home with James while she was pregnant. She’d go mad. Ron ran his fingers through his beard, frowning. Draco had insisted he trim it the other day and he still wasn’t sure if he liked it. It had taken ages to grow out but Draco swore it made him look more sophisticated. He wasn’t sure he agreed._  
  
_Nonetheless, he turned to face Draco, spreading his arms out wide._  
  
_“Do I look handsome?” Ron asked teasingly, a crooked smile brightening his face._  
  
_His smile dropped when he saw Draco’s expression. Fuck, he looked worried. More than worried, really. He looked scared. Ron wasn’t sure he had ever seen Draco look scared before, not when it came to Ron’s safety. Slowly, Ron approached him, studying him. Then he crouched down beside Draco’s chair. When he reached for Draco’s hands, Draco yanked them away._  
  
_“Look, that’s not what I meant. The mission isn’t important, okay? It’s only a, um, a…” Ron trailed off, scratching his beard as he tried to figure out what he could say._  
  
_Because it was important, especially if they found clues that Macnair was there. And Ron didn’t want to lie to Draco._  
  
_“I’m not worried,” Draco snapped, standing up and almost knocking Ron out of the way. “Don’t be a fool.”_  
  
_The fear that was on Draco’s face was now replaced with a familiar haughtiness that reminded Ron of the boy from Hogwarts. He wanted to laugh at the sight of it. Instead Ron sighed and stood up, watching Draco as he walked over to the mirror to preen himself._  
  
_“Of course you’re not worried about me,” Ron muttered, mostly to himself._  
  
_But Draco heard, spinning around so fast that Ron took a step back. Flexing his hands at his sides, Draco narrowed his eyes._  
  
_“Why would I be?” he hissed._  
  
_Ron tiredly rubbed his forehead before reaching out to Draco, hoping he could pull him closer and help calm the rage within him. Sometimes he thought Draco liked to pick fights because he wasn’t sure how else to deal with Ron. It wasn’t too horrible a thing. After all, for years Ron used to pick fights with Hermione instead of speaking to her about what upset him. Hermione helped Ron outgrow that stage of his life. No one had helped teach Draco though. Ron was trying but Draco wasn’t very accepting of his support_.  
  
_“Just leave, Weasley. Why are you still here?”_  
  
_A flash of anger raced through Ron, hot and uncontrollable as always._  
  
_“Fine. You act as though I asked to go on this mission,” Ron growled, walking around Draco to grab his cloak. Draco spun in his spot to keep Ron in his sight. “I’d much rather be here than out there!”_  
  
_“Oh, yes, I’m sure. You’d much rather stay here and play house with me than play hero with Potter.”_  
  
_Draco’s words were cutting, mocking, but they didn’t have the same effect as they used to. At the start of their relationship those words would’ve heated Ron, angered him, made him want to press his lips to Draco’s and swallow the horrible poison he spewed. Now, though, it only let Ron know that Draco was terribly upset by the situation. His heart ached. If only Draco could understand that Ron was just as disappointed to be having to leave…_  
  
_Ron clenched his jaw as he eyed Draco. Draco couldn’t hold his gaze for long though, instead dropping his eyes, his lips twitching into a frown. He walked up to Draco and cupped his cheek, guiding his face up so their gazes could meet once more. Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to the corner of Draco’s lips._  
  
_“Three days. I’ll be back in three days.”_  
  
_He kissed the fool—his fool—once more then left._  
  
~*~  
  
“You’ve barely touched your tea, darling.”  
  
“I’m aware.”  
  
“Why did you come over for tea if you aren’t going to drink it?” She paused. “Can you tell me what’s bothering you or do we have to remain in this draining silence for another twenty minutes?”  
  
Draco ran a hand along his jaw before forcing himself to look at Pansy. Pansy was already watching him, lips pursed and eyebrows raised.  
  
“Such an impatient woman,” Draco said with a scowl.  
  
“There are much more exciting things I could be doing right now than this: watching the house-elves clean, visiting my father in Azkaban, listening to my mother go on and on about the latest gossip among her friends. Yet I’m here with you.”  
  
Her lips curled in a small smile that made the tension in Draco’s shoulders disappear. He grabbed his teacup and pressed it to his mouth in an effort to please her. But he couldn’t take a sip of the cooling liquid. It felt like there was a Bludger in his stomach, heavy and rolling. He wouldn’t be surprised if he spewed out the tea if he tried to force it down his throat. Still, though, he pretended to drink some before trying to place the cup back down carefully as to not arise Pansy’s suspicions. It rattled on the plate. Pansy leaned forward.  
  
“Tell me what has you so upset.”  
  
If only it were that easy. The real issue, Draco supposed, was that he wasn’t sure where to begin. Ron had left over a week ago on a mission and Draco hadn’t heard from him since. It wasn’t unusual for his missions to go longer than expected and for him to be unable to send word but it had never gone this long. Thoughts had poisoned Draco’s mind ever since he had sent Ron running from the flat before his operation. Had something happened, something that forced the job to go this much longer, or was enough enough? Had Ron decided not to return to Draco’s company or was something holding him up?  
  
The worst part of the whole thing was that Draco was surprised to find he desperately cared to find out what the reason was. Ever since he had begun spending time with Ron, Draco had made an effort to _not_ care about the dopey bloke. Nothing good would come from their relationship. Ron was a great shag and that was _it_. Yet here he was, worried sick about the idiot.  
  
“I haven’t heard from _him_ in over a week.”  
  
“ _Him_ ,” Pansy repeated. “You can say his name here, Draco. It isn’t as though there are spies lingering in the corners.”  
  
Pansy smirked when he frowned.  
  
“Must you be so bothersome?”  
  
“I simply don’t understand why you refuse to speak his name. As you may recall, I’ve known since the beginning about your torrid love affair with _Ron_ —”  
  
“Stop!”  
  
The single word came out pained and sharp, weaker than Draco had intended. A warm flush pinkened Draco’s cheeks and he lowered his eyes. He still saw Pansy go tense in surprise before leaning back in her seat. Merlin, this was embarrassing. He simply hadn’t been expecting to hear Ron’s name so suddenly, especially from Pansy.  
  
“I hadn’t meant…” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “I hadn’t realized. Did you get in an argument?”  
  
“No. Well, perhaps.” Draco shook his head, as if that would somehow help clear his mind and help the embarrassment that clung to him dissipate. “He went on a mission that was supposed to only last for three days. I haven’t heard from him since he left. Before he left, I… I antagonized him.”  
  
“You’re sure he’s returned home already? You’ve told me before his assignments can go long.”  
  
“Never this long.”  
  
Draco looked away from Pansy and her sympathetic gaze. They were in her flat, a tiny thing that would make her father spit and her mother cry. It was nice, though, and familiar. There were potted flowers in the windows and piles of books neatly stacked around the room. He glanced back at Pansy, his dearest friend, and tried to force the truth from his lips.  
  
“Valentine’s Day is approaching. Perhaps he didn’t want to get me a gift.”  
  
He failed miserably. Pansy let him attempt to sound nonchalant and joking, though, instead of forcing him to be honest. It was almost easy to pretend with her.  
  
“Well, you’re not exactly easy to shop for,” Pansy allowed, smirking along with him, though she continued to eye him.  
  
“We didn’t do gifts last year. This year, I told him I expected one. I likely scared him off.”  
  
Valentine’s Day was a week away. Surely the mission wouldn’t go over the holiday. Surely.  
  
Pansy stood from her seat and walked over to the window, cracking it open. Cool air rushed into the room, helping calm Draco. As Pansy leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette, Draco pressed his fingers to his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on; likely because he was finally admitting out loud the horrid situation he found himself in.  
  
“So what’s your plan?”  
  
Draco looked over at Pansy, eyebrows furrowing.  
  
“My plan?”  
  
“Yes, your plan,” Pansy reiterated, smoke drifting from her mouth.  
  
“There is no plan. He’s done with the mess we created and so am I.”  
  
A lie, he knew. He simply couldn’t stop lying, even to Pansy, who knew him better than most. Draco’s hand twitched on the tabletop. Pansy noticed.  
  
“Is that so? You don’t want to find out the truth?”  
  
The truth? Draco had done a grand job of avoiding the truth of his relationship with Ron for ages—why would he want to find out the truth now?  
  
“You’ve been shagging the bloke for almost two years, darling,” Pansy said as she tapped the end of her cigarette out the window. “You can’t continue to pretend you don’t have feelings for him.”  
  
“I’m not pretending,” Draco snapped. “He was simply… convenient.”  
  
The word tasted wrong on his tongue and his stomach twisted. Pansy let out a long sigh.  
  
“Allow us to pretend for a moment that you don’t care about him. You really expect me to believe that a Weasley would put up with you for two years simply because you’re _that_ good of a fuck? Impossible. You’re insufferable, Draco. Even if you didn’t care for him, he clearly must’ve fancied you.”  
  
Draco remembered the mornings with Ron curled around him, protesting softly into his neck whenever Draco attempted to get the day started. He thought of the smile that brightened Ron’s face when he’d step out of the fireplace, not bothering to brush the dust off of him before sweeping Draco into an embrace. It was easy to recall the first time Ron reached under the chessboard and entangled his fingers in Draco’s, an almost thoughtless action as he concentrated on what his next move would be.  
  
“There has to be more to the story than that he left you because you annoyed him too much,” Pansy continued, unaware of Draco’s mind straying from the conversation.  
  
He forced those memories away. They only made him feel worse.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Perhaps the mission is actually going longer than planned and he simply can’t reach out to you. After all, he is with bloody Potter. As thick headed as he is, Potter would likely notice Weasley writing a letter and sending it off against orders.”  
  
That was true, of course. Draco knew that. He knew that Ron would never be able to reach out to him, even if the mission went a month over schedule. It was part of his heroic job. But it didn’t _feel_ like that. The Ministry never sent Potter and Ron away for too long; they preferred to keep the dynamic duo close to home.  
  
Perhaps his fear had come to life. Someone had found out he was in a relationship with Ron and exacted revenge to punish Draco for the wrongdoings of the Malfoy family. It was no secret that the Death Eaters hated that Draco and his mother were free while they were in Azkaban or on the run.  
  
“Or,” Pansy continued, eyes brightening as she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Maybe he’s found some exotic lover—”  
  
“Very funny.”  
  
“—and he’s decided to never return home again!”  
  
“You’re hilarious.”  
  
She giggled and Draco pressed his lips together, unwilling to laugh at her antics.  
  
“Oh, come now, Draco. Weasley is as loyal as a mutt. He would never leave you without saying anything. Remember all those annoying fights between him and Granger back at Hogwarts? Even when they looked ready to kill each other, he kept her within eyesight lest someone else dare try to speak to her. Not knowing why he hasn’t come to see you is going to drive you absolutely mad and I refuse to put up with it. You must make a plan and find out the truth.”  
  
He shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing as he thought over what she said. There had to be a way to find out if Ron was still on assignment or if he was home and avoiding Draco. _Or,_ his thoughts whispered, _a way to find out if something worse happened…_  
  
Draco cleared his throat.  
  
“Fine. Let’s make a plan.”  
  
Pansy let out an excited squeal and clapped her hands together. She flicked the cigarette out the window, uncaring as always, and began towards the kitchen.  
  
“I’ll open a bottle of wine.”  
  
“It’s barely past three, Pansy.”  
  
“Yes, but we have _plans_ to make.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Ron felt like absolute shite. His head was stuffy and he had body aches that rivaled the morning after Quidditch practices. There was also a chance he had a fever; his head felt warm and he was sweating more than usual. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep off whatever this was. Hopefully it’d be gone by morning. Stumbling from the fireplace, Ron halfheartedly brushed the dust off his cloak as he walked further into the room._  
  
_“You’re here earlier than norm—are you alright? You look dreadful.”_  
  
_Draco had stopped walking as soon as he caught sight of Ron. Ron grimaced._  
  
_“Do I really look that bad?” Ron asked, collapsing into the closest chair._  
  
_Draco walked briskly over to Ron, kneeling down beside his chair._  
  
_“How long have you felt sick today?” he asked softly._  
  
_“A few hours.”_  
  
_“Taken any potions for it yet? What are your symptoms?”_  
  
_Ron buried his head in his hands as a chill swept over his body. Bloody hell, this was horrible. And he had gone to Draco’s flat instead of going home to his own. What was he thinking? If Draco got sick too, Ron wouldn’t forgive himself. Lifting his head from his hands, Ron stood up. Draco jumped to his feet, startled._  
  
_“I shouldn’t have come here. I could get you sick.”_  
  
_“Oh, fuck off, Weasley.”_  
  
_Ron glanced at him in surprise. Did he make up that note of affection in Draco’s voice or had it really been there? Draco sighed loudly when Ron swayed in his spot._  
  
_“Where are you going to go off to then? Your mother’s house? Have her take care of you?”_  
  
_A low chuckle escaped Ron as he shook his head. The last place he’d want to go was the Burrow right now. Though his mum would give him the best care, she likely wouldn’t let him leave for at least three days. He had actually been hoping he could simply crawl under his covers at home and somehow survive this cold. Draco crossed his arms over his chest._  
  
_“Come along. I have some clean clothes for you that you’ve left here. Take a shower. I’ll check my cupboard to see if I have any potions that can help. If not, I’ll brew one up.”_  
  
_“No, no, I don’t want to get you sick. I’m not your…” He was going to say responsibility but the word refused to leave his mouth. Draco’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t have to feel obligated.”_  
  
_“Ron. Go take a shower then lay down in bed. Let me take care of you.”_  
  
Let me take care of you.  
  
_Perhaps it was the fever that was taking over but Ron felt a sudden rush of fondness for Draco. He nodded, not needing to be told again. Draco gave him a small smile before turning and disappearing into his kitchen. Some of the worry that had pooled in his stomach left him when he realized he wouldn’t have to deal with this alone. And, honestly, there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than here with Draco._  
  
_Ron stopped walking at his thoughts and glanced into the kitchen. Draco was muttering to himself as he looked at different potion bottles in the cupboard. His lips parted as a wave of realization washed over him._  
  
_Bloody hell, he was in love with Draco Malfoy. He was in love with the git, so much so that his first thought while sick and barely thinking was to go home—not his own flat but Draco’s flat. It was home to him now. Being here with Draco was exactly where he wanted to be. And Draco had let him stay without any hesitation at all._  
  
_Ron loved him._  
  
_Draco turned and spotted Ron, a potion in hand and a brilliant smile brightening his face. He was saying something to Ron as he walked up to him, one hand gently pressed into the small of Ron’s back to guide him towards the bathroom. Knowing Draco, he was probably admonishing Ron for not already being in the shower. But there was something tender in his eyes as he started the bath for Ron that made Ron think… just maybe… Draco could be in love with him too._  
  
~*~  
  
Drinking wine and attempting to scheme did not work out as well as Draco and Pansy had hoped. The alcohol brought forth emotions Draco had been keeping locked away and he ended up emotional on her bathroom floor at the end of the night, head in his hands as he tried to stifle tears. No plans were made, no ideas brought forward. The only reward Draco received from Pansy’s brilliant idea of opening a bottle of wine—which led to one or two more bottles—was an atrocious headache the next morning that even a hangover potion couldn’t dull.  
  
Worse yet, he had to go into work. He tried not to groan aloud as he stepped out of the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into Diagon Alley. It was absolutely packed; all the bloody children had been let out of Hogwarts as the holidays approached and it seemed every single parent decided to bring their families out shopping. Draco craned his neck above the crowd and spotted the shop he worked at further down the way. It was going to be a pain trying to get there.  
  
He pulled out his pocket watch, giving it a quick glance before depositing it back into his pocket. There was simply no time to waste. Grinding his teeth, Draco stepped into the crowd and began towards work. Dodging people should be considered a sport, he decided, as he barely stopped himself from stepping on a woman’s foot before jumping to the side as two rogue children ran past him. Why did _they_ have no issues getting through? If he were about three feet shorter and screamed at the top of his lungs, would everyone before him part and let him by?  
  
Draco really needed to speak to his boss about allowing employees to use the fireplace in order to Floo in from home. It would save him the trouble of having to navigate the crowd and he wouldn’t have to leave his house nearly as early. Honestly, it sounded like a win-win to Draco. If only his boss wasn’t such a hag, he probably would have been able to convince her of this brilliant idea ages ago—  
  
“—Potter, stop!”  
  
It was instinct at hearing the dreaded name _Potter_ that made Draco stop walking and look towards the voice that had shouted. He didn’t see Potter or the woman who had called for him but his heart still raced. If Potter was back then Ron was back. If Potter was back then Ron… Ron was avoiding him. He breathed out shakily. But Potter wasn’t in this crowd, no matter how hard Draco searched. Draco was rather sure he’d spot Potter’s hideous face anywhere and he wasn’t here; there were only shoppers rushing from one place to the next, rudely knocking elbows with him as they hurried by.  
  
But then something bumped into his leg, pushing Draco ever so slightly to the side. He looked down, eyes narrowed, as he saw a young child with a familiar tuff of red hair running by him. A Weasley, there was no doubting that. Draco reacted without thinking, grabbing hold of the child’s cloak that flapped behind them. The child let out a loud ‘ _oof_ ´ as they lost their momentum and stumbled backwards into Draco.  
  
It was when the child looked up at Draco, giggling, that Draco realized it was hardly a child at all. He hesitated, looking down at the chubby cheeks and wide eyes. The boy was basically a baby. Or, Draco reasoned, a toddler more like. Merlin, would he have to help find his parents? _Why_ had he stopped the kid from running by him? It was only after a moment of mentally complaining that it clicked. This was James Potter, the spawn of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Ron often spoke fondly of the toddler but this was the first time that Draco had seen him. Draco tilted his head as he studied the boy. He looked like Potter but only slightly; he had the same stupid smile Potter always wore when he got away with something he shouldn’t have and darker skin like Potter. But that was it. Everything else was pure Weasley.  
  
“James Potter, I will absolutely _murder_ you—Oh. Malfoy.”  
  
Ginny Potter arrived before him, dodging through the crowd so easily that Draco quickly remembered she played professional Quidditch for years. Even more impressive, Ginny was extremely pregnant. Draco cleared his throat before lifting his hand that still held onto the child’s cloak.  
  
“This is yours, I presume?”  
  
She pursed her lips together when she looked down and saw the boy. For a moment, she seemed ready to shout at the child. But then the worry and frustration visibly left her. Reaching out, she took ahold of the child’s hand and gently pulled him back towards her. The boy laughed again and leaned his head against his mother’s leg.  
  
“Mama!”  
  
“James, you worried me,” Ginny said with a sigh. Then she focused on Draco. “I thought it’d be easier shopping with him. I hadn’t realized _how_ pregnant I was until this moment.”  
  
“You’re rather pregnant, yes,” Draco replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets now that they were free.  
  
“Yeah, a bit,” she laughed.  
  
Draco watched her as she tilted the boy’s chin up so they held eye contact. The crowd moved around them, grumbling. Ginny took a moment to admonish the boy for leaving her side and Draco took that time to let his heart ache at how much she reminded him of Ron. Ron absolutely adored his little sister and the family she had created, especially since it was with bloody Potter. When they’d lay in bed together, sweaty and exhausted, Ron would randomly talk about Ginny and memories he had with her.  
  
Draco felt like he knew her in a way. They had never got on well at school but they never had issues the way Draco did with the Golden Trio. Ron had always said Ginny would most easily accept their relationship if they were to ever date publicly, a statement that Draco had dismissed with a wave of his hand.  
  
Now, though… Now he needed information. And here she was before him.  
  
As the thought went through his head, Ginny readjusted her grip on the toddler and straightened, looking at Draco once more. She gave him a tightlipped smile.  
  
“Thank you for stopping him. He’s rather quick for a three-year-old, I swear. Could’ve been trampled by this crowd.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
Draco tried to smile back but it came out more like a grimace. Ginny stared at him for a long moment, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Merlin, she looked tired. He couldn’t help but wonder if she looked exhausted because she was chasing around a child or, perhaps, if there was something else going on. But then she turned to leave and his opportunity to discover the truth was leaving with her.  
  
“I hadn’t realized you were having another spawn with Potter.”  
  
The lie came out rushed and his cheeks pinkened. It was the first thing he could think to say to stop her and it was clearly the wrong thing. When Ginny turned back to face him, her head was tilted and her eyes narrowed.  
  
“Another spawn?” she repeated.  
  
Her tone screamed _danger, danger, danger_. Draco recalled his fifth year and her Bat-Bogey Hex. He cleared his throat.  
  
“The Daily Prophet didn’t write a front-page article on it as they did with that one.”  
  
Draco waved at the boy by Ginny’s legs. The child smiled.  
  
“I hadn’t realized anybody still read the Daily Prophet,” Ginny replied coolly.  
  
There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other. Draco recognized the look Ginny was giving him for Ron often wore the same expression—she was trying to figure out what Draco was up to.  
  
“Pansy still reads it.”  
  
“Parkinson?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“That is… quite interesting, Malfoy. I have to get going, though—”  
  
He stepped towards her, a tiny step, but it surprised her enough that she remained standing where she was.  
  
“Granger and your brother must be the godparents to him.”  
  
Again, he motioned to the boy. Again, the child smiled at him.  
  
“Which brother are you referring to?”  
  
_Danger, danger, danger_. Draco hesitated, wondering why she was visibly irritated by the conversation. Was it because he was asking about her family? Or was she mad because he was asking about Ron? Would she react like this no matter who he asked about? Or did she hate that she was being forced to speak to him right now when she really wanted to leave with her ornery child? He wished he could read her better.  
  
“The brute,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “Who followed Potter into trouble at every opportunity. Is he—did he find his way back to Granger?”  
  
Maybe Pansy was right. Maybe Ron had found a new lover and left Draco in the dust. Maybe Ron had spent a night with Granger, his first love, and decided his future was with her instead. Draco had barely considered it before, not really, but now as he asked the question he found worry tugging at his stomach. Granger would never make them hide their relationship. Granger would probably welcome Ron back with open arms. Who wouldn’t?  
  
“What? What do you mean?”  
  
The child began tugging at Ginny’s hand. Without taking her eyes off Draco, she bent and lifted the boy onto her hip. Draco watched, almost feeling like he should offer to hold the child before remembering who he was and who she was and where they were. Merlin, he had to get to work. But, first, he had to find out the truth.  
  
“Are they—are they dating again?”  
  
“Speaking of the Dailey Prophet, I hadn’t realized you became a reporter for them,” Ginny said, groaning as she shifted the child so he was seated more comfortably on her hip. Despite the effort of holding a child while pregnant, something threatening still lurked in her gaze. “Is that why you mentioned the paper before?”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“Must be the gossip section you write for, asking all these stupid questions.”  
  
“I do not work for that horrid paper! You think _I’d_ lower myself to work for the _Prophet_?” Draco spat, lip curling.  
  
Her mouth lifted in a small smile at his admission and the expression, Ron’s curious expression, was back on her face. Any signs of danger disappeared.  
  
“Then ask whatever you really want to ask, Malfoy, and stop wasting my time.”  
  
Ask what he really wanted to ask. Impossible.  
  
“What do you want to know? Why are you so interested in Hermione and Ron?”  
  
Not Granger. Just Ron. He swallowed thickly and shook his head. He had backed himself into this corner. How many times had Ron asked about becoming more serious and going public with their relationship? How many times had Draco denied him? If Ron had decided to end things with Draco without telling him, Draco couldn’t be the one to out Ron to his family.  
  
“I only want—I hadn’t meant—Nothing. There’s nothing I want to know.”  
  
Lies.  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“Okay,” Ginny said slowly, eyeing him. “Thank you for stopping James so I could catch him.”  
  
He was a coward. The truth hit him like a Bludger to the chest and he lowered his head. Ron wouldn’t care if he asked Ginny about his whereabouts. Ron was a decent human who would understand if Draco was worried over him. Ron would never simply _leave_ Draco without letting him know why. He would never torture him like this on purpose. And this… this was Draco’s best opportunity to find out what had happened to Ron and he was too frightened to ask Ginny. To see the judgement in her eyes, to hear the surprise in her voice.  
  
_Where is Ron?_  
  
The question begged to be asked but he couldn’t do it.  
  
“You work down at the potions shop, don’t you? I heard you became a Potions Master and went to work there.”  
  
“Yes,” Draco replied softly, glancing up at her.  
  
There was something gentle and kind in her gaze as she stared back at him that reminded Draco so incredibly of Ron. What did she see on his face that he couldn’t hide away? Did she see how much he hated himself in that moment? Or did she recognize something in his expression that she herself was going through also? Draco let his eyes run over her pale face and the dark bags under her eyes. He could ask her where Ron was. He could.  
  
But he wouldn’t.  
  
Draco inclined his head, unable to speak, before turning sharply on his heel and heading towards work.


	4. Chapter 4

_It was later than Ron normally stayed but he had arrived at Draco’s past dinner and, well, Draco was excited to see him. Ron stretched in bed, a pleasant groan escaping his lips when his back popped. Draco looked at him, eyes twitching in annoyance._  
  
_“Are you even listening to me?”_  
  
_“Yeah. You’re still going on about the new law the Ministry is trying to pass.”_  
  
_Ron laughed when Draco reached over to shove him. He wasn’t trying to be a prat but Draco had been going on and on about the Ministry the last few times they had hung out. Apparently, he was rather bothered over the fact that the Ministry would even think about trying to control how Hogwarts was run again. Each time Ron had wanted to point out that Draco had rather enjoyed Umbridge being at Hogwarts but it didn’t feel right to tease him about it. If there was anything Ron had realized about Draco over the last year, it was that he wasn’t the same boy from Hogwarts._  
  
_Draco didn’t seem too bothered by Ron’s teasing, however. He went back to spitting out the names of the lawmakers who were trying to unbalance the natural order of things in a way only Draco had perfected. Ron listened halfheartedly. Hermione was currently on the same rant as Draco about the Ministry. Normally, Ron wouldn’t mind listening to one of them rant about a topic but to have both of them going off about the same thing was a bit much. Nonetheless, Ron nodded along with everything Draco said._  
  
_It was nice seeing him so passionate about something. More and more, Ron was given the privilege of seeing Draco without his walls up. Sure, Ron had seen glimpses of the real Draco each time they met up over the last year but recently Draco had been much more open with Ron, whether he realized it or not. Amusement tickled Ron when Draco began to recite one of the Daily Prophet articles that had covered the potential legislation in a high-pitched voice._  
  
_He couldn’t help but find humor in how much Draco hated Hermione when he was so much like her. Though, to be fair, hate could be too strong a word. Draco rarely sneered anymore when Ron mentioned her. Warmth unfurled inside Ron’s stomach and, without realizing, a dopey smile lifted his lips. He certainly had a type, didn’t he? Passionate and intelligent with the ability to ramble on and on about one topic for hours. It was strange to realize how much he enjoyed being around Draco. Sure, he liked to shag the bloke and the hunger they had for each other was undeniable. But Ron really, truly liked spending time with him._  
  
_He wished, not for the first time, that Draco was more open to telling people about their relationship. Ron had asked more times than he wanted if he could talk to Harry or Hermione about it. Draco always shot it down. Ron thought he understood; Draco always said his past with Voldemort made it too dangerous for them, that he couldn’t stand the idea of Harry and Hermione gossiping with Ron about him, that he simply wasn’t ready. At times like this, though, Ron really wished he could tell his friends that he thought he was actually starting to like the man in bed with him._  
  
_Without meaning to, Ron yawned. Draco’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it._  
  
_“Am I boring you, Weasley?”_  
  
_Ron laughed and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Draco’s bare chest._  
  
_“Bloody hell, of course not. I could listen to this for hours.” Draco rolled his eyes but his lips were curling in a smile despite himself. Ron’s grin widened. “But I have an early meeting tomorrow and I’m exhausted. You tired me out. I’m not as young as I used to be.”_  
  
_“Yes,” Draco drawled, his eyes following Ron as Ron stood from the bed. “But I much prefer you as you are.”_  
  
_Ron glanced back at Draco as heat flooded his cheeks. He knew what Draco was doing and he refused to be seduced back to bed._  
  
_“I need to go home,” Ron said instead, searching the floor for his clothes. “If I didn’t have that meeting, I’d stay longer.”_  
  
_“Stay anyway.”_  
  
_“My boss will have my head if I show up half asleep again,” he said, laughing._  
  
_“I’m serious. You should—you should spend the night.”_  
  
_Ron stopped searching for his clothes and looked at Draco incredulously. He couldn’t tell if Draco was being serious or not. This would be the first time Draco invited Ron to spend the night without the intention of shagging each other’s brains out. Licking his lips, Ron straightened._  
  
_“You’re serious?”_  
  
_“Didn’t I just say I was?” Draco retorted but he sat up completely, giving Ron his full attention. “I’d…I would like you to stay the night with me, Ron.”_  
  
_A hesitant smile broke out across Ron’s face when Draco diverted his eyes._  
  
_“Alright, I’ll stay. But only because you’re begging me to.”_  
  
_“Oh, fuck off,” Draco said with a laugh before grabbing a pillow and launching it at Ron._  
  
~*~  
  
It had been over two weeks since Draco last saw Ron. Valentine’s Day had come and gone and there was no word from him.  
  
Two weeks and Draco had let his one opportunity of finding out the truth slip through his fingers. He thought of the boy he had been at Hogwarts, always unsure of what the right decision was. And he had always chosen wrong, hadn’t he? Staring down at the chessboard, he realized that was why he had never beaten Ron at a game. He was too afraid to make any big moves, to sacrifice his own position, to put himself at risk.  
  
Now look at him. Left alone in his flat, wondering over the fate of his lover, the answers to his worries within his grasp and still—still he hesitated.  
  
There were only a few options left: hope to stumble upon Ginny Potter again, reach out to her via owl, or… or go to the Ministry and ask to speak to Granger. How embarrassing. Granger would likely have him escorted from the building while reminding him of all the times he had bullied her, mocked her, called her a Mudblood. Draco deserved her hate, he was well aware of that. If he asked her about Ron and she denied him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with his own guilt and self-loathing.  
  
He pressed his fingertip to the chessboard and traced an _R_. There was a coating of dust on the surface. Normally he’d cringe at the dirt but he found he couldn’t care right now. They had hardly any time to play chess in the last month or two. Ron was always working and, when he finally came to Draco’s flat, they’d either end up shagging and falling asleep, fighting and falling asleep, or eating a rushed dinner and falling asleep. Perhaps the strange routine had helped distract Draco from the fact that he simply missed the git, that he wanted more time with him, that he actually cared for him, that he wanted to desperately ask him to work less and stay _home_ more.  
  
But this wasn’t home for Ron. This was Draco’s flat.  
  
Draco looked around. Everything was neat and tidy. Nothing was out of place. Whenever Ron came by, all the cleaning and arranging Draco had done meant nothing; there was no denying that Ron was sloppy in his best of times. But now Draco found he yearned for the sight of Ron’s muddy boots by the fireplace, his bright Weasley jumper thrown on the chair inside out, an array of Quidditch magazines tossed about on the table.  
  
Draco rubbed his forehead. As each day passed, he wished more and more that he would’ve swallowed his pride—no, not pride, his _fear_ —and talked to Ron more about their relationship. He wished he would’ve told Ron that he wasn’t angry at him most days, that he was just overwhelmed by the rush of new emotions that hit him every time he saw Ron. He wasn’t used to missing someone when they were gone longer than normal. He wasn’t used to wanting to wake up and see someone as soon as he opened his eyes. He wasn’t used to thinking about the future and worrying about someone else when he tried to plan it.  
  
_Coward._  
  
The word rang in his head.  
  
“Draco, darling! Are you there?”  
  
Pansy’s voice pierced the silence of the room. Draco jumped in surprise and looked towards the fireplace. From the flames, Pansy flashed him a smile. Warily, Draco left his seat by the chessboard and sat in the chair beside the fireplace.  
  
“I’m not sure why I even asked if you were home. It’s not as though you’ve left the house to do anything other than work or sulk at my flat.”  
  
“Lovely for you to stop in and say hello,” Draco said dryly. “Is there a reason you’re disrupting my peace?”  
  
“Your peace? Yes, I’m sure you’re in a rather peaceful mood.” She seemed to hesitate, the humor leaving her face. Draco shifted forward in his seat, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. Pansy rarely made house calls like this. Whenever she did, it was something serious. “I have a present for you.”  
  
“A present?”  
  
“Yes. I’m not sure if it is a good or bad gift, however, so be warned… I had stumbled upon it outside my shop window. It was the last thing I had imagined to see, to be perfectly honest, and I’m still not sure what to think of it.”  
  
“Pansy,” Draco warned in an attempt to cut her rambling short.  
  
Had she seen Ron? Had Ron gone by the florist shop Pansy worked at as a way of letting Draco know he was okay and they were over? Draco’s heart pounded in his ears at the idea. Ron knew Pansy worked in Hogsmeade. Draco had also worried for ages now that Ron suspected he might’ve let Pansy in on their little secret. If Ron had known that and he wanted to talk to Draco without really talking to him, that’d be the way to do it. Go see Pansy. Let her tell Draco the tragic news.  
  
“It was Potter, Draco,” Pansy said, her voice softening. “Potter was rushing through Hogsmeade. I spotted him, of course, because there were plenty of people trying to stop him to gush over the appearance of a hero and I had to see what the commotion was all about—”  
  
Potter. Potter was back. It felt as though the air had been stolen from his lungs. Harry Potter was back and wandering through Hogsmeade and Ron hadn’t come to see Draco yet. If Potter was out and about, that meant that nothing had happened to Ron. It meant Ron was healthy and fine. After all, in the last couple weeks both Ginny and Potter had been spotted out in public.  
  
Ron was home, he had to be, and he hadn’t come to see Draco.  
  
He dropped his head in his hands as his stomach twisted. My God, he felt nauseous. This was—Merlin, this was painful. What had he expected? After harassing Ron before his last mission, perhaps Draco deserved being dismissed this way.  
  
“I think I’m going to be ill,” Draco muttered into his hands.  
  
“What? What did you say, Draco?”  
  
“I’m going to get sick,” he repeated, lifting his head so he could look at her.  
  
Worry visibly distorted Pansy’s pretty features.  
  
“Darling, Potter didn’t make it sound like he was _dead_. Something happened, yes, that much is obvious. But Longbottom and Potter were speaking as though he were simply in some—some sort of state. I really think you need to go find Potter and demand the truth—”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Were you not listening to me?” Pansy asked, annoyed. “Longbottom had been coming to the shop to talk to me about the upcoming full moon and if I thought it’d help the latest batch of flowers he was attempting to plant, a _new age_ method, he keeps telling me—”  
  
“Pansy, please.”  
  
“Sorry, of course. Longbottom had been coming to my shop and had stopped Potter as he was stalking down the street—he has a very Snape stride, doesn’t he?—and I had cracked the window only a bit to hear what they had to say. And they had mentioned _Ron_. Longbottom had asked if there were any developments with Weasley and Potter said no, he was in the same state as last week.”  
  
“The same state? What does that mean?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Pansy said, eyebrows lifting. “But I think it’s time you go to Potter and find out.”  
  
~*~  
  
The idea of going to Potter and asking for his help, for his answers, had made Draco feel nauseous once more. Though he had already been considering asking Granger what she knew, the thought of going to Potter, of seeing his smug face as he withheld the answers Draco so desperately needed, to admit the _truth_ of the situation to that prat before he admitted it to really anyone else…  
  
But something had happened to Ron.  
  
It had taken far less time to convince himself to head to the Ministry, where Pansy had said she heard Potter mention he was heading back to, then Draco thought it would’ve. He rarely visited the Ministry these days. Looking around, he recalled the many times he accompanied his father to work, moaning about how utterly bored he was while feeling absolutely superior to every person they came in contact with. No one he knew worked in the building anymore. Most employees there would rather see Draco thrown into Azkaban than strolling a free man through the halls. How times had changed.  
  
And it was like walking into the lion’s den as he navigated his way to the Aurors’ department. He walked slowly down the corridor lined with doors on both sides. This was going to be miserable, he decided. The room beyond the door would house more Aurors than Draco wished to see. His father always scrunched his nose up when discussing the Aurors’ office arrangements. Cubicles, Lucius always spat, cubicles with no privacy and rowdy men with no professionalism. They’d see Draco and curse him, curse his very existence. There was a chance they’d even attempt to duel him. He wouldn’t be surprised.  
  
Draco inhaled slowly before lifting his hand to push open the oak doors. Behind him, the elevator dinged. Through the doors in front of him, he could hear chatter. He hoped Potter was back already. If he had to wait for him among those people…  
  
“Malfoy?”  
  
Draco turned warily, one hand drifting to where he kept his wand, before freezing. It was bloody Potter. Oddly, for the first time ever, relief struck Draco at the sight of the man. Potter must’ve just stepped off the elevator when he noticed him. Draco hesitated, unsure of what to say.  
  
“Potter.”  
  
“Are you lost?” Potter asked, eyes narrowing in confusion. “This is the Level 2. Level 2 is for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”  
  
It was natural to scowl at Potter, easy even. But Potter only pushed his glasses up his nose and stared, waiting for an answer.  
  
_Don’t be a coward._  
  
“I’m aware of what floor I got off at. I’m—I’m here to see you, actually.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“Yes. Yes, it is.”  
  
It was clear that Potter didn’t trust Draco. He continued to eye him for a moment, as though he expected Draco to pull his wand out and curse him. Tempting as it was, Draco kept his hands carefully at his sides as he waited for Potter to say something. As time stretched on, and the risk of being caught in the corridor with Potter became more likely, Draco began to feel rather faint. There was no reason Potter had to sit and talk to him. He owed Draco nothing.  
  
“Are you here to file a complaint? I’m a bit busy. I could redirect you to someone who could help you with that.” Potter slowly began towards him, his attention beginning to drift to the stack of files in his arms. When Draco didn’t answer right away, Potter looked back up at him. “Well?”  
  
“No, Potter. I said I was here to talk to you,” Draco bit out.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
His eyes were bright with curiosity despite the growl in his voice as he motioned to a door on his right. Oh, thank Merlin. They wouldn’t be walking into the room with all the Aurors. Relief raced through Draco as he approached the door Potter opened. Potter waved for Draco to enter before him.  
  
“You have your own office?” Draco said without thinking, lip curling.  
  
Ron didn’t have an office.  
  
“No,” Potter replied, stepping in behind him and shutting the door. “This is McCoy’s office but he’s out on leave and I’d rather not do this around my coworkers. Sit, Malfoy.”  
  
Draco wanted to refuse the seat simply to spite Potter but didn’t. His legs felt too weak. This conversation could go horribly wrong. The realization of that sat heavy in his stomach as Potter took the seat behind the desk. Everything about this could go wrong. Potter could decide that Draco was lying or that there was too much bad history between them or he could simply not to want to tell Draco anything at all. Draco needed to play nice.  
  
Potter stacked the bundle of files he had on the desktop before relaxing in his seat, watching Draco coolly. Draco wondered what he was thinking. After a moment, the prolonged eye contact became too much and Draco looked away. The office was large but messy, with pictures of a family Draco didn’t know hanging on the walls. It still felt stifling though, a touch too small. It was hard for him to keep his breathing even.  
  
Everything would be fine. It had to be.  
  
“I don’t have all day, Malfoy. Why are you here?”  
  
Draco looked back at Potter.  
  
“I need… I need to ask you something. I need—” Draco cleared his throat. “I need to ask you something rather personal and I’d like to know that you’ll tell me the truth.”  
  
“I’m not here to make any promises to you,” Potter said, his lips twitching in annoyance. “You came to see me, remember?”  
  
“No, I…” Draco’s face warmed but he forced himself not to break eye contact. “I need to know what happened to Ron.”  
  
Potter didn’t seem to process what Draco said. Nothing about his expression changed as he continued to stare Draco down. Draco waited, lips parted, his wand warm in his cloak pocket. It was unnerving, waiting for Potter to react. Perhaps he hadn’t heard Draco. Maybe Draco had thought he spoke and, in reality, he hadn’t. Merlin, was he going mad? It was only when Draco shifted slightly in his seat that Potter blinked, lips pressing together so hard they went white.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“He hasn’t returned from his mission, has he? It’s been weeks. Something must’ve happened to him—”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?” Potter snapped, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Why would you know anything about Ron and his missions? Did someone leak information to you? Do you have information you’d like to trade? _What_ are you trying to say?”  
  
Potter was spiraling out of control in front of him. Draco stared, fascinated at how quickly Potter went from calm and collected, bored even, to a mad man.  
  
“No, I—” Draco tried to find his voice but it was proving difficult. Potter, though, went silent as soon as he spoke again, though it was clear he was struggling to hold it together.  
  
_Don’t be a coward. Tell Potter the truth._  
  
He swallowed thickly.  
  
“We’ve been—we’ve been dating.”  
  
Saying the truth out loud surprisingly helped loosen the knot in Draco’s chest.  
  
“What? Who?” Potter questioned, looking Draco over as though he would be able to tell simply by staring hard enough if Draco lying to him.  
  
“Us. Ron and—I. Ron and I have been dating.”  
  
“Oh, shove off, Malfoy,” Potter snapped, leaning back in his seat as though exhausted.  
  
Now that Draco really had a chance to look over Potter, it was clear he was drained. Everything about him seemed messy: his cloak was wrinkled, his uniform stained, his hair barely brushed. His eyes were sunken in, his lips pale and cracked, his cheeks hollow. Throughout all their years together at Hogwarts, Draco had never spotted Potter looking so torn apart. It only convinced Draco more that something was wrong with Ron.  
  
But it was obvious that Potter didn’t believe him. And why would he? Ron had kept his promise of not telling any of his loved ones that they were dating. Draco had to convince Potter that the truth was actually the truth. Leaning forward, an odd sense of calm washed over Draco.  
  
“I’m not lying, Potter. We’ve been… together for almost two years now.”  
  
“I would know if Ron was dating someone for two years,” Potter scoffed.  
  
“Why would I lie about this?”  
  
“I have no idea! This is the absolute craziest bloody thing I’ve heard in weeks! You expect me to believe that you and Ron— _my_ Ron—are dating? Ron would’ve told me if you two were—were something, he wouldn’t have hidden it, not from me—”  
  
Draco could barely hear what Potter continued to shout. His blood boiled as he fought the urge to correct Potter and inform him that Ron was very much _his_. But, no, that wouldn’t do.  
  
“I told him not to tell anyone,” Draco interrupted, hands clenched by his sides. “That’s the truth of the matter. I regret it now that I have to go through _this_ with _you_ but it’s the truth.”  
  
Potter stared at him.  
  
“Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know about—that you two—that you’re dating?”  
  
There was no pleasure to be had in hearing Potter stumble over the idea of Ron and Draco being in a relationship. Draco lowered his eyes as he felt his cheeks warm. This was horrible but he couldn’t stop it now. Draco had to be willing to bare the truth in order to find out what had happened to Ron. He had put himself in this situation. He had to end it.  
  
“He’s an Auror. I’m a… I’m the last person he should be with. My God, I’m a former Death Eater. I always—I always feared retaliation. If anyone knew the truth about our relationship, he’d likely be singled out for revenge. I mean, his job is to find the people my father fought alongside of. If they saw him, if they saw him and thought it’d hurt my father or myself if he died, they’d do it. They’d kill him with no hesitation.”  
  
“Ron has enough reasons to be hated,” Potter said shortly.  
  
“I didn’t want to be another one.”  
  
“Sounds like an excuse and a bad one at that. I don’t believe you.”  
  
He said it so simply and so matter-of-factly that Draco thought he misunderstood him at first. But then Potter looked down at the files on his desk, uninterested, and Draco realized his chance was disappearing before his very eyes. His ears rang. If Potter didn’t believe him, he’d never know the truth about what happened to Ron. Panic made him slam his hands down hard on the desk; Potter reacted instantly, jumping out of his seat and training his wand on Draco.  
  
“Put away your bloody wand and listen to me!” Draco cried out, hysteria pitching his voice high. “It’s a horrible excuse, a coward’s excuse, and I see that, I know that I’m a coward and that I was hiding him away for my own selfish reasons, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t the truth! And—and I wasn’t ready to accept how much he had become a part of my life yet. I thought if he were to tell his family, if he were to tell you, everything would change and I’d have to—I’d have let it or I’d lose him and whatever was growing between us. I wasn’t ready for any of it, I wasn’t ready for him, I was afraid! I was fucking afraid!”  
  
His chest rose and fell with quick breaths as he realized what he had admitted to Potter. Potter inhaled sharply before, slowly, sitting down. He placed his wand on the desk where Draco could still see it, the threat clear. Draco ran his hands through his hair, frantic.  
  
“I know your missions can go long so I waited. I checked the Daily Prophet every morning. I thought if something went wrong, surely it would have been reported,” Draco said as he stared at Potter imploringly. “After all, how would the world survive if Saint Potter or—or his fucking sidekick were injured on a mission catching Death Eaters? But he was hurt, wasn’t he? Something went wrong.”  
  
“Ron was injured but we kept it from the press,” Potter said, curiosity coloring his words. “Hardly anyone knows. But you know. How do you know?”  
  
Draco’s heart skipped a beat. Hearing it from Potter’s own mouth— _Ron was injured_ —was almost too much.  
  
“Pansy saw you in Hogsmeade. She heard you tell Longbottom. She told me. I had almost asked Ron’s sister the truth last week when I saw her but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”  
  
Potter sat forward, his mouth twitching into a frown.  
  
“Ginny told me you were acting strange. That you were asking about Hermione and Ron. That you seemed worried.” There was a note of wonder in his voice. “You aren’t lying, are you? You’re the one Ron’s been sneaking around seeing. Me and Ginny, we’d tease him about it but he’d never tell us who it was. It was you.”  
  
Draco wanted to grab Potter by the collar of his robes and shake him. He wanted to scream. This whole time he’d been telling Potter that he was in a relationship with Ron and Potter knew Ron was seeing someone but he only now believed him? Frustration crawled up Draco’s throat, choking him, begging to be released. But he couldn’t yell. Draco had put himself in this situation—he had put Ron in this situation. He could only be angry with himself.  
  
“Yes, well,” he managed to say, clearing his throat. “I’m glad you’ve finally heard what I’ve been telling you the past half hour. Where is he? Is he okay? I need to see him.”  
  
Potter tapped his fingers against the desk, clearly at war with himself. The minutes stretched on and Draco was on the brink of losing it again, of shouting or crying or storming out, when Potter let out a loud sigh. He pushed away from the desk and stood up.  
  
“Stay here. I need to let my boss know I’m taking the rest of the day off. Then… then we can go see Ron.”  
  
~*~  
  
The only thing they spoke of was Ron as they headed to St. Mungo’s. He had been hit by an unknown curse while chasing a Death Eater through a Muggle town south of London. They kept it from the press in fear of reporters storming the Burrow and St. Mungo’s, giving Ron’s family little peace as they dealt with the state he was in. He had fallen into a coma, Potter said, never stirring from his sleep. It was clear that Potter was terrified for Ron.  
  
It made Draco want to get sick.  
  
“Stay here,” Potter said without looking at him.  
  
Draco pressed his lips together but did as he was told. They were on the fourth floor of the hospital. The long-term residents’ ward. As they had walked through the ward, passing by dozens of patients, Draco couldn’t help but worry that Ron had been placed on this floor. Did the Healers have little hope that he’d wake up anytime soon?  
  
Draco leaned against the wall, peering around as he waited for Potter to return. No one seemed to care much that they were there. St. Mungo’s was likely used to have to keep hush about the coming and going of certain patients and their visitors. If the Ministry asked St. Mungo’s to keep a war hero’s injuries quiet, Draco was sure the hospital would.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
He jumped at the sudden arrival of Potter. Potter waved for Draco to follow him. They passed several more rooms for patients then a couple of offices with Healers lounging inside. Then they reached the last door in the hallway. Potter glanced back at Draco.  
  
“I wanted to make sure the other person left before I let you see Ron.”  
  
Ron’s friends and family took turns sitting at his bedside, lest something change. A bit like work shifts, Potter had explained earlier. Draco nodded, sweat dampening the palms of his hands as he waited for Potter to open the door.  
  
Then he pushed it open, an almost sympathetic expression on his face. Potter stepped to the side so that Draco could walk in first. The initial thing Draco noticed was a fire lit in the fireplace; it was likely how the person who had been here watching Ron before had left once Potter showed up. The room was rather toasty and blindingly white. There were flowers and books covering every surface. And there… there was Ron.  
  
Draco didn’t care that Potter was there. Seeing Ron before him, pale and lifeless against the bright white bedsheets, shattered something inside of him. He stumbled towards the bed and reached out, brushing his fingers against Ron’s cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, not cold as Draco had feared. His lips were parted as he breathed in and out in a steady rhythm. His beard was neatly trimmed, likely courtesy of his mother, and the freckles that dotted his face stood out dark against his pale skin.  
  
Draco wilted like a flower over Ron’s bedside. The feel of Ron’s body beneath his own brought him little comfort.  
  
_Ron was alive. He was alive. He was going to be okay._  
  
Draco buried his face in Ron’s chest, refusing to let Potter see the tears that wetted his face.


	5. Chapter 5

_This was probably a mistake._  
  
_Maybe._  
  
_Most likely._  
  
_Yet Ron was back again, like a bloody moth to a flame. Malfoy would snicker at the analogy, probably thought the same thing himself, that Ron was weak and Malfoy wasn’t to be resisted, but Ron found he didn’t care. There was just something—something intoxicating about the man. Perhaps it was because Ron knew Malfoy wanted this as much as he did and hated it as much as Ron did too. They were oddly on the same side for once, weren’t they? Going after what they wanted and hating themselves for it._  
  
_Though, to be honest, Ron wasn’t sure he hated himself for what was growing between him and Malfoy. The initial visits to the potions shop, the back and forth banter, began to toe a dangerous line when Ron decided to see if the tension he felt between them was just in his head. It wasn’t, he realized rather quickly. No, it most certainly wasn’t._  
  
_His lips grazed the smooth, freshly shaven skin along Malfoy’s jaw as his hand traced its way down Malfoy’s side—his fingers dug into Malfoy’s ribs before drifting lower, brushing over the hard muscles of his stomach, wanting more. Ron’s other hand was pressed against the wall, caging Malfoy in, but Malfoy wasn’t trying to escape. It was the beauty of the situation, wasn’t it? The beauty and the hilarity of it, really._  
  
_Ron leaned back after several more kisses to Malfoy’s neck to look at him. Despite being pushed up against the wall, breathing erratic and face flushed, he still looked oddly composed. In control as always, wasn’t he? If there was more time for this, Ron would’ve likely laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Instead he lowered himself to his knees in front of Malfoy, a position he never thought he’d willingly succumb to, and tugged at the button of his pants._  
  
_Malfoy’s hands were balled up at his sides and Ron bit back a grin at the sight of it._  
  
_“You know,” he breathed as he reached out and palmed the bulge in Malfoy’s pants. “You can’t be in control of yourself all the time.”_  
  
_Ron didn’t expect a response, was hardly listening, when he heard Malfoy’s choked reply._  
  
_“You’ll find I’m rarely in control, Weasley.” He saw Draco swallow thickly._  
  
~*~  
  
Potter let Draco accompany him every night when he’d go in to relieve the person who stayed with Ron during the afternoons. They barely spoke, though they both sat in the hospital room together for hours. It would only be around midnight, when it was clear Potter was struggling to stay awake, that Draco would offer to go home.  
  
On the fourth night, Draco suggested on a whim that he could stay with Ron so Potter could go home to his wife. Potter accepted. Draco couldn’t deny that he was surprised but he didn’t question it. When Potter left, Draco took the spare blanket in the room, covered himself with it, and grabbed Ron’s hand. His touch was warm, familiar, as if he hadn’t been motionless for weeks now. It helped Draco drift off to sleep, bent over his bedside, uncomfortable yet grateful for this time alone with Ron.  
  
Exactly six hours later, Draco was woken up.  
  
“Come now, Harry, it’s time for you to go home.”  
  
Draco stirred from his sleep but he didn’t move. There was something familiar about the voice that sent warning bells through Draco’s tired body. He opened his eyes and realized he had pulled the blanket over his head at some point in the night. He couldn’t see who was in the room with him and they couldn’t see that he wasn’t Potter. Fuck.  
  
“Harry? I’m here now, you can go home.”  
  
There was a touch to his shoulder. Then, when Draco didn’t respond, the blanket was gently tugged off of him. He heard a small gasp and the sound of multiple heavy things falling to the floor. Heart racing, he finally looked over his shoulder to see who it was.  
  
Granger.  
  
“Malfoy!” she squeaked, hands covering her mouth. “What are you _doing_ here?”  
  
The bones in his back cracked and popped in protest as he straightened. He tried to think of what to say, what excuse he could possibly come up with, but his mind was blank. Granger’s eyes were darting over the room, taking in every little detail. Draco quickly let go of Ron’s hand but he was sure Granger had already noticed him holding it.  
  
“Granger.” His voice cracked over her name. “Granger, Potter knows I’m here.”  
  
Her eyes grew wide with that knowledge. She looked ready to scream or yank out her wand and curse him. Draco hesitantly turned to face her completely, lifting his hands so she didn’t think he was going for his wand.  
  
“I swear it. He left me here last night with Ron. It’s not—I haven’t done anything, I’m only here to… to…”  
  
“You’re only here to what?” she asked.  
  
But then something about her demeanor changed. Eyeing him, she chewed on her bottom lip before finally sighing. Then she walked over and sat in the seat Potter had occupied the night before, clasping her hands in her lap and lifting her chin. Granger continued to study Draco, a calculating look in her gaze that reminded him of a younger Granger at Hogwarts.  
  
“You’re who Ron’s been seeing, aren’t you?”  
  
Of course she would figure it out. Draco’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. He supposed it was better than having to convince her of the truth like he had to with Potter. Running a hand through his hair, Draco waited for her to say something else.  
  
“Well, I suppose I should’ve figured it out ages ago, really. He’s mentioned you more than a few times in passing,” Granger said as she turned an affectionate gaze to Ron. Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “He could’ve let us know.”  
  
“I asked him not to.”  
  
The more he had to say it out loud the more he realized how horrible of a decision it had been. Ron should’ve been able to tell his friends and family about their relationship.  
  
“Of course you did. That’s the only reason Ron would’ve not told us. He’s not very good at keeping secrets from me and Harry but I suppose he thought this was important enough.”  
  
The brisk tone she spoke with reminded Draco once again of their time at Hogwarts. He took a second to look over the woman. Not much had changed about her. Her hair was still a wild mess, barely contained with some clips. There was still a knowing glint in her eyes and an almost condescending tilt to her chin. Draco looked down at the floor beside him and smirked; there were books scattered about that she must’ve dropped when she realized he wasn’t Harry.  
  
“I shouldn’t be surprised you brought half a library with you,” Draco said without thinking.  
  
Granger glanced at him.  
  
“Yes, well, the Healers here have little to no idea what curse is effecting Ron. They need all the help they can get, really. I’ve been spending every other day here trying to look up potential solutions to help wake him up. Which, honestly, makes it perfect that you’ve finally decided to show your face.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
She shrugged.  
  
“You were—”  
  
There was a clatter of noise outside the room that silenced Granger. Draco rose to his feet, his hand itching to go for his wand, but Granger only rolled her eyes. Then Potter appeared in the doorway, out of breath and sweating.  
  
“It’s not me! It’s Malfoy, it’s—Hermione, I’m sorry, I meant to be here before you got here. I meant to let him go home first. I wasn’t trying to hide it. I’m sorry—” Potter looked to Draco, eyes wide and earnest. “I had meant to get here earlier. I overslept.”  
  
“Harry, it’s fine. I figured out the truth. Come in, sit down. You could’ve Flooed here, you know. It would’ve been faster.”  
  
Granger got out of her seat and ushered Potter into it. He grasped at her hands, squeezing them, and Granger offered him a tiny smile.  
  
“I’m not mad, honestly. It was Ron’s secret either way, not yours. No need to apologize. I was actually just telling Malf—Draco… I was about to tell Draco that it’s perfect that he’s finally shown up.”  
  
“Why?” Potter asked, eyebrows furrowing.  
  
Draco understood Potter’s confusion, still waiting to hear Granger’s answer himself. With a wave of her wand, the books on the floor began to float and drifted over to a table before stacking themselves neatly on top of it. He watched them go before turning his attention back to Granger, who had her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
“You can help us find a cure for Ron.”  
  
Help find a cure for Ron? That was ludicrous. He wasn’t a Healer and he didn’t know nearly enough about what had happened to really help. Nonetheless, as his gaze drifted to Ron, the idea began to settle comfortably over him. He might not be a Healer but he was a Potions Master. And he had worked closely over the years with St. Mungo’s to develop new potions for sick patients. Draco ran a hand along his jaw, mind whirling.  
  
“He was always second best to me in school,” Granger was saying to Potter. “He’s a Potions Master, which could help us tremendously. We might even be able to convince Kingsley to offer a contract to Draco so that he can focus solely on creating a potion for Ron. After all, someone else could get hit with the same curse Ron did. It’d be in the interest of the Ministry to find a cure.”  
  
Draco looked back to Granger and Potter.  
  
“I’ll need the files from the Healers on what they’ve already tried on Ron. I also think speaking to the Ministry would help. My boss won’t look kindly on me working on a side project at work. If we can get a contract set, she’ll have no choice but to agree to it. I’ll also need all the information from the incident itself. You can spare no details, not with this.”  
  
Granger and Potter shared a look. Draco had no idea what they were silently communicating to each other but, after a long moment, Granger looked at Draco with a beaming smile.  
  
“Perfect. I’ll go speak to the Head Healer now. Harry, perhaps you should write a letter to Kingsley? The faster we can get a contract started, the better. If you’d like to head home for a few hours, Draco, you should. It’s rather early in the morning still and I have a feeling we’ll be here a while today.”  
  
Granger left the room in a hurry. Draco slumped in his seat, pressing his fingers to his eyelids. She was right, of course. He should head home and shower, eat something and perhaps have a coffee to help start the day. If the Ministry didn’t get a contract written within the next couple hours, he’d have to go to work still. Merlin.  
  
Draco dropped his hands and stood, stretching. Potter was staring at Ron, his lips tugged into a frown.  
  
“How was sleeping in a bed for once, Potter?”  
  
Draco wasn’t sure where the question came from or why he actually asked it. Potter looked over at him, his eyebrows shooting up. But his frown disappeared and was replaced with a hesitant smile.  
  
“It was wonderful, actually. I think Ginny will likely give you a kiss the next time she sees you.” He chuckled. “Thank you for that.”  
  
A corner of Draco’s lips lifted.  
  
“Yes, of course,” he replied.  
  
He spared one last glance at Ron before leaving the room.  
  
~*~  
  
The next several days were a blur. The Ministry of Magic wrote a contract for Draco’s services as Potions Master within several hours of receiving Potter’s letter, pleasantly surprising his boss and freeing Draco of his other responsibilities at work. Once he realized he could avoid the shop for the day, Draco headed back to St. Mungo’s.  
  
He felt like he had been there ever since. Potter had spent hours going over every single detail he could remember from the attack. Draco didn’t know of any Dark curses that could do what they did to Ron, even from the days when Death Eaters prowled the hallways of his home. Then, after Potter finished and left, Draco and Granger poured over the files the Healers had gifted them. There was no denying that the Healers had tried everything they could think of. There were potions listed that Draco hadn’t had the opportunity to brew yet in his many years of potion brewing, expensive and difficult potions that had little to no chance of changing Ron’s state. But the Healers tried them anyway.  
  
Then the time was spent tossing ideas back and forth. If Draco let himself think on it, he would’ve realized how well he worked with Granger despite their occasional spats.  
  
_“I’m telling you, using three Ashwinder eggs will cancel out—”_  
  
_“And I’m telling you that you’re wrong. Three eggs will do fine. I’m the Potions Master, remember?”_  
  
_“I remember this from Snape, Draco! He taught us this. And, if you recall, I bested you in potions class each year.”_  
  
_“That is a lie!”_  
  
_“It is not!”_  
  
There were several times they found themselves drifting asleep over the books, accidentally tipping over an inkwell or knocking over a cup of tea in the process. Draco only went back to his flat to shower and rest in an actual bed. The rest of his days were spent in the tearoom with Granger or in Ron’s room, watching him sleep. Sometimes Potter joined him there, other times it was Ginny. They worked it out so that none of Ron’s other family members ran into Draco and, for that, he was grateful.  
  
But the time came when Draco had to leave St. Mungo’s to begin working on the ideas he had come up with Granger. There was a potions lab at St. Mungo’s but he knew it would be severely lacking compared to his lab at work. If there was any hope of creating a potion to help Ron, Draco would have to leave him.  
  
“I’m not sure if you can hear me,” Draco said softly, feeling only slightly foolish as he spoke to Ron. “But I’m going to… I have to leave. To find a cure for you. I can be no help here anymore. And I rather wish I could stay, despite the fact that you’ve been an absolute horrible host. Feel like I’ve been having to entertain myself here. And you left me with only Potter and Granger to talk to. That’s cruel, even for you.”  
  
His lips twisted into a smile as he ran his fingers along Ron’s hand. The freckles that dotted Ron’s skin seemed to stand out more than ever. Draco lifted Ron’s hand to his mouth, letting his lips brush Ron’s skin.  
  
“The next time I’m back, however, I expect you to be awake. Full of apologies, also. It’s been rather rude of you to have us worrying so much. I—oh. Potter.”  
  
Potter stood awkwardly in the doorway, face reddening as he looked over the scene he had stumbled upon.  
  
“Sorry. Sorry, I’ll come back.”  
  
“No, it’s fine.”  
  
Draco squeezed Ron’s hand before laying it gently back on the bed. Potter came in slowly and took a seat as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. Against his better judgement, Draco turned his attention to Potter. Over the past few days, whenever he had time to think about anything other than potions and dark magic and Ron, his thoughts had drifted back to Hogwarts and the mistakes he made then and the mistakes he had made now. The urge to apologize and to thank Granger and Potter had become overwhelming recently. If they had wanted to ban him from seeing Ron, they could’ve.  
  
“I’ve always meant to… to thank you,” Draco stammered, his words leaving him with little permission. “For what you did for me at the trials. I’d likely be in jail alongside my mother if you hadn’t spoken for us.”  
  
It was clear that was the last thing Potter expected Draco to say. He stared at him for a long moment before he lowered his eyes, his face going even more red. But then Potter gave a tightlipped nod of acknowledgement, his way of allowing the moment to pass. Draco wasn’t sure he was ready for that though. He twiddled his thumbs before leaning forward, clearing his throat.  
  
“I must ask why you did it though. I should’ve asked a decade ago, I know, but I simply… I simply couldn’t.”  
  
Draco had always assumed it was Potter being a hero that made him do it. Instead of letting Draco and his mother go to Azkaban, he’d play hero one last time. He always had to be the good guy, didn’t he? For months after, Draco had considered writing to Potter and extending his gratitude for saving not only himself but his mother too. But he could never pick up the quill and put it to the parchment. He had hated Potter for so long that thanking him for his life, acknowledging that Potter was the only reason he could walk a free man, had been too much to comprehend while already dealing with the loss of his father’s freedom and the darkness of a place he had once called home. But now, as they tried to find a way to save a man they both cared for, Draco thought it was finally time to find out the truth.  
  
Potter scrubbed his face roughly, knocking his glasses askew, before letting out a long sigh. Then Potter mimicked him, leaning forward in his seat and clearing his throat.  
  
“I had been thinking about speaking out for you for ages after Kingsley told me you both were going on trial. I actually was talking myself out of it a bit, I think. And it was right after the war so everyone was dealing with their own issues and I—I wasn’t going to talk to anyone about it, I was going to just not go because I had thought it might be… wrong to go. I don’t know. I’m not sure why I thought it’d be the wrong thing to do. I didn’t want to use my… status as a “war hero” to sway the courts, you know? But I mentioned it to Ron one night when we were at the Burrow—his parents’ house—and he told me I should do it. That you saved my life at your manor and that your mother saved my life in the forest. That despite everything else during the war that I should at least _try_. And he was right so I—so I went.”  
  
Draco’s gaze drifted from Potter’s to Ron. There was a sudden knot in his throat. He reached out once more, squeezing Ron’s hand, before standing. Potter wasn’t looking at him, his attention focused on his best friend. But, as Draco passed Potter, he stopped.  
  
“Thank you for listening to him.”  
  
Merlin, if only his younger self could hear him now. Potter looked up at Draco and nodded again, the silent nod to allow the moment to pass. Draco accepted it gratefully, unsure he could say anymore, and left. There was work to do.


	6. Chapter 6

_This was annoying. It was also the absolute last thing Ron wanted to do before the end of his shift. He roughly scrubbed his face with his hands as he hastened down Diagon Alley. Usually the head of his department had a newer Auror run these types of errands but, of bloody course, today all the young Aurors were in training, leaving Ron and Harry to divide the errands that needed to be done. Understandably, Harry didn’t want to take any of the errands where he had to be in extremely public settings. Ron, being the good person he was, didn’t put up a fight._  
  
_It didn’t mean he was happy about it though. After Apparating so many places, and Flooing the rest of the them, Ron felt grimy. He glanced down at his hands after rubbing his face and frowned. They looked dirtier than before he had touched his face. Was there Floo dust all over him? Hell, he needed this already long day to end._  
  
_With a grunt, Ron pushed open the door to the new potions shop. He wiped his hands on his pants and glanced around. Bottled potions lined the walls. A large chandelier hung on the far end of the room, brightening the entire store. It took a moment for Ron to look away from it. There was no one else here. A large cauldron placed on the floor bubbled and popped; there was no fire underneath but the scent coming from it reminded Ron of home. He wondered what was inside. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he was just beginning to head towards it when someone walked out from the backroom._  
  
_“Is there anything in particular you’re looking—hell.”_  
  
_Hell was right. Without permission, Ron’s cheeks pinkened as his gaze met Draco Malfoy’s. Merlin, how long had it been since Ron had seen the git? At least six years and, even then, it had only been in passing or in the Daily Prophet. Of course he had managed to stumble into the prat’s shop looking as though he had been literally drug through mud._  
  
_He knew Malfoy was thinking the same thing as his attention drifted, looking Ron up and down. Ron readied himself for an insult, for something, feeling rather like a schoolboy again. Instinct told him to grab his wand and hex Malfoy before Malfoy could do something to him. But Malfoy only tilted his head, a single eyebrow lifting as his light eyes found Ron’s once more._  
  
_“Some things haven’t changed, I see.”_  
  
_“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ron snapped._  
  
_The prat’s lips twisted into a smirk._  
  
_“What did I do to deserve such a gift as your presence?” Malfoy asked when the silence stretched on._  
  
_“I thought that was rather obvious. I’ve come to pick up potions.”_  
  
_Malfoy made a sound in his throat._  
  
_“Yes, that is rather obvious, I suppose. But you haven’t placed any orders—I would know if you had, for I think I would’ve remembered growing nauseous at the sight of your name—and we do not take walk-ins. New policy that started, ah, about five seconds ago. I rather hope this causes an inconvenience for you.”_  
  
_The hair on the back of Ron’s neck bristled and he breathed in slowly through his nose. Malfoy’s arms were folded across his chest, his fingers tapping against his biceps as he waited for Ron’s retort. He looked almost eager as Ron approached him. Ron stopped before he was at the counter, preferring to keep some distance between them. And, with no permission at all, his gaze wandered over the man._  
  
_Malfoy’s hair was still slicked back just as it had been in Hogwarts but now a pair of goggles rested on top of his head; he must’ve been working on a potion when he heard Ron walk into the shop. He was thin still but his clothing complimented it, suspenders highlighting the length of his torso, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his forearms, shirt pressed and clean. Malfoy looked healthier than the last few times Ron had seen him—he looked good._  
  
_Ron forced the thought away, instead quickly thinking of something to say back to the man._  
  
_“Believe me, I’d rather choke on my dinner than shop at a place associated with a Malfoy—”_  
  
_“—that can be arranged—”_  
  
_“—but I’m here to pick up an order for the Head of the Auror Department,” Ron continued through clenched teeth. “Because I’m an Auror.”_  
  
_Malfoy looked entirely unimpressed. Ron’s ears burned._  
  
_“An Auror running errands? Didn’t you skip your last year at Hogwarts to begin training with the Ministry? Now, almost a decade later, you’re still their errand boy?”_  
  
_“Fuck you.”_  
  
_The two words slipped out before Ron could stop them. Delight colored Malfoy’s face; Ron wouldn’t have been surprised if he began snickering with glee. Pressing his lips together to ensure that no other accidental words escaped, Ron tried to force himself to calm down. For fuck’s sake, this was Malfoy. Why was Ron letting him get him all riled up? It had only been five minutes since Ron had walked into this shop and now look at him—flushed, angry, and bickering with Malfoy like he was still a teenager._  
  
_What was wrong with him?_  
  
_“The order, Malfoy,” Ron said, as the smirk widened on Malfoy’s face._  
  
_Surprisingly, Malfoy didn’t say anything in return. Instead, he opened a drawer and began to shuffle through it. It only took a second for him to find what he was looking for. He pulled out a piece of parchment and looked over it before heading to the back._  
  
_Ron ran his hands through his hair roughly, yanking at the strands for a second before releasing them. What a way to end the day. His last errand and it was to Malfoy’s bloody potions shop. He should’ve been a bad friend for once and had Harry do the public errands. Wait till Harry found out about this! If he didn’t offer to pay for Ron’s lunch tomorrow, there’d be hell to pay!_  
  
_“I could report you to your superior.”_  
  
_Malfoy was back._  
  
_Ron’s eyebrows lifted as he watched Malfoy wave his wand, sending several parcels that drifted behind him to rest neatly on the counter. Taking the final steps forward so that only the counter was between them, Ron watched as Malfoy wrote on the parchment._  
  
_“Is that so?” Ron said._  
  
_He looked at Ron, sneering._  
  
_“Harassing a civilian? I thought you were supposed to be the good guys now yet here you are, bullying me and attempting to intimidate me.”_  
  
_“Intimidate you?” Ron laughed. “You said you could arrange for me to choke on my dinner!”_  
  
_Malfoy lifted a shoulder in a shrug, as though he could barely recall saying such a thing. He was such a prat._  
  
_“And Aurors have always been the good guys, Malfoy, though your memory might serve you differently.”_  
  
_“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Sign here that you received the order then fuck off, will you?”_  
  
_There was no sharpness to what Malfoy said. Instead, it seemed like he was forcing himself to sound bored. Ron took the parchment from Malfoy, eyeing him, before taking out his wand placing the tip to the bottom of the paper. With a tug, the parchment left his hands and rolled itself up. Then it drifted back to the drawer it had come from._  
  
_“If you had owl service, we wouldn’t have had this issue,” Ron informed him as he gathered the packages._  
  
_“Not my shop, Weasley.”_  
  
_Really? Ron paused in shrinking the packages, eyebrows furrowing. He wasn’t sure why he had assumed that Malfoy owned the place._  
  
_“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”_  
  
_“I’m the Potions Master,” Malfoy said, two pink tints high on his cheeks signaling his annoyance. “I do not own the business but I am what keeps it running.”_  
  
_Surprised laughter left Ron._  
  
_“You must be a pleasant employee to have. Was your boss absolutely desperate when they hired you? No other applicants would take the job?”_  
  
_“Possibly. But I am the best, don’t mistake that.”_  
  
_And, oddly enough, Ron didn’t. Malfoy had rivaled Hermione for grades back at Hogwarts and he had always excelled in potions, though Ron hadn’t been sure if it was because Snape favored him above anyone else or because Malfoy had actually been good. But it made sense that Malfoy actually had some talent and that he had found a place to showcase it. After all, McGonagall would never hire Malfoy as a professor at Hogwarts like Dumbledore had Snape._  
  
_Ron placed each shrunken package into the safety of his vest pocket. Then, not quite sure what to say, he headed to the door. It had been an odd experience, seeing Malfoy so unexpectedly. Yet… yet Ron wasn’t sure it had been entirely unpleasant now that it was over. The exchange between them had managed to ignite some of Ron’s temper but not nearly as horribly as it had years before._  
  
_Strange. Ron found he rather wished their back and forth banter could’ve continued for a bit longer. With that thought in mind, Ron found himself turning around once he reached the door. He lifted his hand in an awkward wave._  
  
_“I’ll see you, Malfoy.”_  
  
_“Hopefully not,” Malfoy drawled but his eyes flitted upwards, meeting Ron’s._  
  
_And… ah, yeah, there was something different in the way Malfoy was looking at Ron now too, wasn’t there? Warmth flooded Ron’s body at the realization and a corner of his mouth lifted. Yeah, it had been nice seeing Malfoy, he decided. Maybe he’d come back again soon._  
  
~*~  
  
He spent hours upon hours standing over a cauldron, meticulously adding ingredients in the hopes that the potion didn’t explode in his face or melt the cauldron. The gel that kept Draco’s hair slicked back couldn’t handle the steam and, eventually, curled around his face. Each time Pansy visited, delivering different ingredients her shop carried, she couldn’t help but giggle at the marks the goggles left around Draco’s eyes. He’d normal shush her but exhaustion lingered in his bones, making it hard to care.  
  
Not every potion was a success and not every potion was Draco comfortable enough with sending to St. Mungo’s to be given to Ron. It was a guessing game, giving patients potions that might have strange side effects, but it was a game Draco was normally good at. This time, however, he knew the patient who would be given the potion. He knew the patient’s friends and family, he knew the patient liked the worst Quidditch team in the league and that he laughed loudly at his own jokes and that he was an expert at chess and would smile even when he was sick. And, without a doubt, he would tell Draco to shut up and get on with it if he could see how worried Draco was about the potions he was creating.  
  
Over the course of a week and a half, Draco sent St. Mungo’s five potions. The ingredients and process to each was theorized by both Draco and Granger before being agreed upon by two other Potions Masters that Draco had studied with. Granger was the one who wrote him when the potions didn’t work. He wanted to be there to watch the Healers give Ron each potion, to study the effects, to maybe see Ron wake up, but Granger had promised to write the notes herself so he could continue working.  
  
Draco stood at the counter at work, rereading Granger’s three letters over and over again. At this point, the ink was becoming faded from how much he had handled the parchment. He had tweaked the fourth and fifth potion so they were more like the second—after being given the second potion, Ron’s eyelids had fluttered. It was the only change in his state but it was big enough. What was he missing though? It had to be something.  
  
The bell above the shop door rang and Draco glanced up warily. He hadn’t been dealing with customers at all since the Ministry put him on contract, a fact he was rather grateful for. Right now, the last thing he wanted to do was speak to a stranger. But it wasn’t a stranger at all. His heart lifted at the sight of her smile.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Ginny rushed to the counter and reached out with one hand to grab ahold of Draco.  
  
“He’s awake.”  
  
The two words he had been waiting to hear for days now hardly made sense as Ginny spoke them. Draco’s lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her. She looked happier than he had ever seen her, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. The child on her hip giggled.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s real, Malfoy. Harry sent word to my brother’s shop, you know, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. We’re about to head over to St. Mungo’s now. One of your potions worked.”  
  
“Which one?” Draco didn’t why he asked, he didn’t really care in that moment, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.  
  
Ron was awake. One of his potions had woken Ron up. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead he stared desperately at Ginny, needing her to give him _something_.  
  
“I have no idea,” she laughed. “I wanted to come let you know before we headed there. You did it! Bloody hell, Malfoy, you did it.”  
  
He let out a single, shocked laugh that made the child laugh too.  
  
“My God, he’s awake.”  
  
He was going to see Ron again. He was going to be able to speak to the prat again and Ron would speak back. The nightmare was over. Draco dropped his head in his hands, more laughter spilling from him. There was a note of hysteria in his laughter that he didn’t care to analyze, didn’t care to hide. Ginny gave his arm a squeeze. Lifting his head, Draco tugged off his goggles and tossed them on the counter. Then he shrugged off his lab coat. He was going to see Ron.  
  
“Wait, I—I wanted to let you know first but… but there’s a ton of us heading over there and we’re not sure if it’s wise for you to head there now too.”  
  
What?  
  
Draco froze, in the middle of running his hands through his hair. A flash of frustration raced through him. He couldn’t go see Ron right now? Was that what she was telling him? Ginny bit her lip before sighing.  
  
“I’m so sorry. I really am. But… but we just need to make sure of everything and all my brothers are already heading that way. It’ll be an absolute madhouse.”  
  
That wasn’t the whole truth, Draco realized. They had to confirm with Ron that Draco wasn’t lying about everything, that despite all the evidence pointing to Draco telling the truth about their relationship that he wasn’t somehow tricking them all. His heart ached, not for the first time, over his past stupidity. As much as he wanted to shout at Ginny about it, to scream and sneer and beg, he didn’t. Instead he shrugged.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“I am sorry. Truly.”  
  
Draco knew she was, could hear it in her voice. She was as genuine as Ron when she wanted to be—Ron who could never keep the truth of his feelings from spilling out.  
  
“I’ll write you myself as soon as we can get people to start clearing out. I promise.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
She offered him one last smile before she adjusted the boy on her hip and began towards the exit. Draco watched her, misery washing over him.  
  
“Are you taking the child with you?”  
  
“Hmm?” Ginny turned to face him.  
  
“You’re taking the child to Mungo’s?”  
  
“Oh. No. I have to head to Andromeda’s first to drop him off. I’m afraid it might be too much for him.”  
  
The child was watching her as she spoke, his eyes wide. Ginny pressed a kiss to his forehead and it seemed to ease his worries. And Draco, unsure of why he felt obligated, cleared his throat.  
  
“Give me the child.”  
  
“What?”  
  
It was clear she didn’t understand what Draco was offering. Then, after a long, awkward minute of silence, her eyes widened. Ginny glanced down at the child on her hip—James, his name was James—before looking back at Draco.  
  
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”  
  
“You didn’t ask me. I offered. Get to your brother, he’ll want to see you there first.” Draco’s throat felt like it was closing as he spoke, as he thought of Ron’s eyes opening, searching, looking. Would Ron be looking for him? Would Ron be upset that Draco wasn’t among his loved ones? “Ron always said you were his favorite.”  
  
Ginny’s face softened.  
  
“I’ll take James to my aunt’s house. You should be at St Mungo’s already; you should be with him and your family.”  
  
She hesitated, clearly weighing the options. Perhaps she was wondering if Potter would murder her for handing their child over to Draco. He almost wanted to laugh at the thought. James didn’t seem to realize the internal debate his mother was having as he giggled and played with her hair. Then Ginny nodded and walked back before handing the child over the counter to Draco. He tried not to look as awkward as he felt as he took a hold of James.  
  
“Thank you. I’ll write to you as soon as everyone has left,” she promised.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Andromeda is expecting him so don’t feel strange going over there.”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“I’ll let Ron know everything you’ve done!” she said as she opened the shop door.  
  
“There’s no need to do that,” Draco responded, lips twitching into a frown.  
  
Ginny went to step out, to leave Draco with her child without a backwards glance. But she paused and glanced over her shoulder.  
  
“Draco… thank you. For everything.”  
  
Warmth spread through his chest, tingly and strange and _nice_ as he shared a look with Ginny. Then she was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
It was six hours later that the owl arrived, beckoning Draco to go see Ron. Six hours of sitting in silence while Pansy worriedly kept him company, six hours as he thought over and over again about which potion they used to wake him, six hours of wondering if Ron would tell Ginny that he didn’t want to see Draco, that he couldn’t do it, that the relationship wasn’t what Draco had made it out to be. But the owl arrived, as Ginny promised, and Draco was forced to make his move, to leave the comfort of his flat and go see the man he had been wanting to see for ages now.  
  
Draco had access to the Floo system in Ron’s room at the hospital. For a moment, he had considered Apparating to give himself more time to think before he saw Ron but the thought didn’t last long. He pressed a kiss to Pansy’s cheek as thanks before stepping into the green flames, his hands shaky and his heart racing. He rarely used Floo; it was so uncivilized. No matter what he did, he came out dirty and his mother did not allow it growing up. Elbows tucked in close, Draco kept his eyes closed as he zoomed through the Floo system before he was finally spit out, stumbling. How did Ron manage to do this all the time?  
  
Catching himself before he fell to the ground, Draco covered his mouth and coughed.  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered before looking up and _realizing_.  
  
Granger, Potter, and Ginny were all sitting around Ron’s bed and staring at Draco, various expressions of amusement on their faces. They all looked lighter than they had in weeks. Draco glanced away from them to Ron and… and their eyes met. Ron was sitting up in bed, smiling so wide that his face looked like it could split in two. The blue of his eyes kept Draco frozen in place. Merlin, he had forgotten just how blue his eyes were. The color of the sky in spring, light and carefree and lovely. Draco let out a slow breath.  
  
“We should get going, my dears, shouldn’t we?”  
  
Draco twitched at the unfamiliar voice and looked away from Ron. Standing off to the side were Arthur and Molly Weasley, watching the scene before them with gentle smiles. Warmth flooded Draco’s face. He hadn’t been expecting to see Ron’s parents, not like this, not so suddenly. Potter, Granger, and Ginny were one thing but _they_ were something else entirely. He could feel his throat tightening as his eyes wet, emotions overwhelming him.  
  
“Yeah, we should go,” Draco heard Ginny said.  
  
Molly and Arthur approached Draco together, moving as a unit as Ron always said they did. Arthur reached out, taking hold of Draco’s arm and squeezing it gently. Molly placed a warm hand on Draco’s cheek, staring up at him. Then they left, heading slowly out of the room. Ginny wobbled up, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to the same cheek her mother had held. Granger smiled at him and promised they’d discuss the potion that woke Ron later. Potter, the last to leave the room, looked torn between hugging Draco and running away. Instead he nodded to him.  
  
“Thank you. You… I’m so happy you came to find me at the Ministry. If you hadn’t…” The words seemed to die on his lips but Draco understood.  
  
Potter nodded again before leaving. Draco breathed in slowly in an attempt to calm himself before he looked at Ron again.  
  
“‘Ello there.”  
  
The two words were said teasingly, softly, and they utterly crushed Draco. The tears came without permission and he let out a horrible choked sound. He covered his face with his hands and curled in on himself as he shuddered from the sobs that tore through his body. Draco had missed Ron’s voice, he had missed his smile, he had missed the brightness of his eyes. He had known he missed Ron, of course he knew that, but now that Ron was awake it fully hit Draco how close he had been to losing him.  
  
“Hey, hey, this isn’t fair. I can’t get out of bed. Draco, please, come here.”  
  
Draco lowered his hands, though he didn’t want to. He had never cried in front of Ron before. But Ron smiled when their eyes met again and he motioned for Draco to come over to his side. Breathing in shakily, Draco sat in the chair beside Ron’s bed. Ron immediately reached for him, taking ahold of his hands.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ron breathed, eyes roving over Draco’s face eagerly.  
  
“You better be.”  
  
Ron’s eyebrows shot up and amusement colored his face.  
  
“You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.”  
  
“You better be apologizing for everything,” Draco said grumpily, leaning towards Ron.  
  
“Yeah, well, you’re right. I’m sorry for everything,” Ron laughed but then he grew serious, tilting his head to the side as he studied Draco. “You were the last person I was thinking of.”  
  
Draco’s heart squeezed, recognizing the tender look Ron wore and the genuine words he spoke. He didn’t want to believe the git but he did. Ron wouldn’t lie about that. A small smile curled on Draco’s lips.  
  
“You fool. You almost died. You fucking almost died and the last thing I had done was yell at you.”  
  
“I’ve rather come to like you yelling at me, to be honest,” Ron said affectionately, squeezing Draco’s hands. “You brewed the potion that saved my life, I’ve been told.”  
  
“Granger helped,” he admitted.  
  
Ron pressed his lips together, hiding a smile. It was clear he already knew that Granger had helped Draco.  
  
“You must actually like me a bit then, to put in so much work.”  
  
“Only a bit,” Draco allowed, his stomach twisting. He was never good with admitting his feelings to Ron, he knew that. But, after everything that had happened, Ron deserved to know the truth of the matter. “I’ve—I’ve come to find I’m not sure what I’d do without you in my life anymore.”  
  
Draco lowered his eyes, unable to hold Ron’s gaze any longer. But Ron tugged at his hands, silently demanding his attention. When Draco looked back up at him, Ron was shifting towards him. With his free hand, he cupped Draco’s face before guiding him closer. Then, with no hesitation at all, Ron pressed his lips against Draco’s. A flash of warmth went through Draco, a forgotten heat that stirred his blood and sent his heart racing. Draco leaned into the kiss, leaned into Ron, grateful for the familiar feeling of Ron’s beard hair scratching at his face, the familiar brush of his hand against his cheek, the familiar warmth of his breath as he breathed out against Draco’s lips.  
  
Ron didn’t lean away from Draco when they finally broke apart for air. Instead Ron pressed his forehead against Draco’s, his eyes fluttering open. Merlin, Draco had missed him. His lips curled into a smile as Ron gazed at him.  
  
“So you like me more than a bit then?” Ron asked quietly.  
  
Draco laughed.  
  
“Yes, perhaps a little more than a bit.”  
  
Ron began to laugh too and settled back against the bed. But he didn’t let go of Draco. It was clear Ron was still tired though, worn out from interacting with people all day. Draco didn’t mind. He’d spend another night, another thirty nights, beside Ron’s bed if it meant each morning Ron would wake up happy and healthy. The thought made Draco press his lips together to hide a dopey smile that would be unbefitting of a Malfoy.  
  
“I hadn’t expected to see you so friendly with everyone,” he said suddenly, interrupting Draco’s thoughts. “My family is very impressed with you.”  
  
“Because I saved your life.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ron laughed. “Apparently that will help win over my family.”  
  
Draco smirked but it dropped as he remembered the last few weeks. Everything had changed between him and the people he made Ron hide the truth from. It had changed in a way that Draco never thought possible.  
  
“While you were sleeping, I spent quite a lot of time with…”  
  
Draco went to say many things—his enemies, the do-gooders, Ron’s dreaded friends—but he couldn’t. If it weren’t for them, Draco wouldn’t be here beside Ron right now. If they hadn’t accepted his story, if they hadn’t welcomed him into their group, Ron would still be in a coma and Draco would be left unaware of the dire situation.  
  
“With my loved ones?” Ron supplied gently.  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
“If they hadn’t… if Potter hadn’t listened to me…” Draco shook his head, closing his eyes for a second to try to clear his thoughts. When he opened them again, Ron was watching him. “I was wrong all this time, to not let you tell anyone we were together when you wanted to. I was wrong. And they listened to me, all of them. They accepted it because they know you and they love you and—and I don’t know why they believed me but they did.”  
  
“Because you were telling the truth. They believed you because you were telling the truth, Draco.”  
  
Draco nodded before leaning forward and kissing Ron again, this time hoping he could convey with the simple action every feeling he had felt since Ron left for that mission. Ron wrapped his hand in Draco’s hair, a low groan escaping his mouth when Draco deepened the kiss.  
  
“You can’t almost die again,” Draco said when they finally broke apart.  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m thinking it’s time I change professions.”  
  
Shock made Draco straighten.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
Ron laughed.  
  
“I think it’s time I take up George’s offer to work at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. I’ll be much less likely to get injured over there and… and I think it’s time I’m home more. With you. If you’ll have me.”  
  
Draco studied Ron’s face, trying to tell if he was lying. But Ron shrugged, a grin spreading across his mouth. Surprised laughter left Draco and he kissed Ron once more.  
  
“Yes, I’ll have you, you giant brute. But if you almost die working at your brother’s joke shop, there will be hell to pay.”  
  
“I’m not too worried,” Ron replied easily. “I only dreamt of you this whole time. It was a pretty good experience for me.”  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Draco said but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him. “You missed Valentine’s Day, by the way.”  
  
Ron didn’t seem too bothered. His eyes fluttered shut, his red lashes brushing against his freckled skin. Draco watched him, uncaring if Ron answered or not. Valentine’s Day didn’t matter, not at all. But then Ron tightened his grip on Draco’s hand.  
  
“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured and Draco smiled.


End file.
